Draco's Hare
by i-am-mudblood
Summary: Draco's neglected and worried at the manor. Hermione's sick of hunting Horcruxes. The war is darkening everyone days, but can the presence of a strange hare patronus bring the two together? Rated T just to be safe.
1. Ch1 The Hare

**Chapter 1: The Hare**

"Draco dear, off to bed now." Narcissa didn't meet his eyes; she rose the cup of tea to her lips and stared at the fire in the fireplace.

Draco looked up from his seat in one of the large sofas. "What for?" he demanded. He hated how his parents were babying him now that the Dark Lord was back to full power.

He was seventeen for Merlin's sake!

"Do as I say, child," said Narcissa sternly, still staring at the fire. "We might have…guests later."

Guests. Draco knew that that meant. Death eaters would be arriving in the Dark Lord's name, come to taunt and tease Lucius as they did often now. Lucius, who had screwed

up, who was now nothing more than a playtoy for the other followers.

Grudgingly, Draco stood. He stared for a long moment at his mother, who had never before seemed so pale and aged. His father remained stonily in the other armchair, his

hands resting lamely on the arms of the chair. Fear and distress clouded his father's face.

For a moment, the blonde-haired wizard considered bidding a good night to his parents, but he thought better of it. Of course they wouldn't have a good night, not when the

Dark Lord and his followers hovered so dangerously above them.

Draco's room was spacious and large. His four-poster, dark wood bed was king-size and laden with Slytherin-green sheets and blankets. Nearly everything in Draco's room was

some variation of dark green, except for his white-blonde hair that contrasted the walls so perfectly. Draco didn't bother to undress; he slid open the floor-length window that was

beside his nightstand and stepped out into the cool night air, taking in the slight breeze and fresh smell.

It had rained earlier today and the air caught a deliciously murky, outdoorsy aroma that Draco inhaled like a drug.

Leaning out the window, the boy jumped. He had no fear as he landed with a small thump on the first floor roof. He slid down the roof carefully, quietly, and soon he was face-

to-face with a large tree trunk laden with thick, supportive branches. Climbing down the moist trunk expertly, Draco reminisced about Hogwarts, where he'd been known to be up in

trees often.

Finally the white-blonde boy reached the floor. It was then that the adrenaline leaked in and the concept of freedom caught his mind.

He ran.

He ran further and further down the gardens that snaked around the manor until he reached the courtyard. There was a particular bench in the courtyard that rested beside a

large, magnificent fountain. This portion was encircled by hedges and a short, stubbly tree so that it could not be seen from the windows of the manor.

This is where Draco sat now, on the bench, still on the Malfoy property in the courtyard, but far from the manor and the restless concern of his parents.

As he did every night, he faced the fountain and waited. It was a shame that the fountain no longer spurted water—when he was a boy, when the Dark Lord was only a

memory in the minds of wizards and witches, his parents used to race him to this fountain. With their wands they allowed sparkling water to shoot from the spouts. The fountain was

a picture of a young boy and a girl. The girl sat prim and pretty on the floor clutching a picnic basket while the boy stood laughing.

And then it happened, as it did every night. Before Draco's eyes, a silvery hare Patronus slipped out from one of the water spouts. Smoothly, elegantly, but still playful and light,

the animal glided over to Draco and played around him. The hare jumped and bounded around the boy for but a few minutes as it did every night. And then it came to rest on Draco's

lap, where Draco stared ahead at the blinking stars and stroked the animal.

He didn't know whose Patronus it was, or why it was here. All he knew was that it was his only light in such dark, lonesome times.

And like every night before, Draco fell asleep with the comfort of the hare beside him.


	2. Ch2 For the Sake of Friends

**Chapter 2**

Hermione hated this.

The traveling, the tents, the searching for the sword… it was all too much. She wanted out. She wanted to be back in her bed back in London, with her Muggle parents, sipping hot tea and reading a newspaper that didn't have moving pictures.

This was all quite overwhelming to a girl who was only seventeen.

It had only been three or four days searching for the sword of Gryffindor, but she was already fed up. The Horcrux they'd all taken turns wearing was creepy, almost evil. When she wore it, it whispered nothings in her ear.

She wore it now, in fact.

"You sssee Ron?" it whispered brokenly in that hideous voice that resembled a snake. "Ron, who sitsss there thinking of Lavender. Ron, who thinksss nothing of you."

Hermione stroked the locket that seemed to be throbbing and tossed a fixed glare at Ron, who looked surprised.

"'Mione, what is it?" said Ron.

Hermione stroked the locket more and snarled at her confused friend, "Oh you know perfectly well what it is—but who cares what I think? Go on and dream about that Lavender girl you fancy so much."

Ron gaped. "Are you mad?"

"Don't go insulting me!" spat Hermione.

Without warning, Harry moved forth and removed the locket from around Hermione's neck. She was about to push him away when she felt a strange, alleviating calmness fall over her like a sheet. She stared wide-eyed at her friends, and then glanced at the locket. "S-sorry," she stammered, looking away.

Day faded into dusk. The three had a light dinner of biscuits and jam; no meat, no potatoes, not even water. Hermione cursed to herself for forgetting to bring a larger food supply. "Harry, we'll need to get some food soon."

"Yeah…great…I'll just waltz into the nearest market, throw some Sickles on the counter, and buy some fried eggs and toast. How about that?"

Ron snickered but Hermione remained grim.

"This isn't a joke, Harry! We're running out of food, fast." She gestured to her bag with frustration. "I've only enough biscuits and jam to last us maybe another week, and then we're done."

Harry and Ron exchanged thoughtful glances. "We could go to the Burrow—"

"No, we can't risk that," said Hermione shortly.

"Well, Miss All Knowing, what do you suppose?" asked Ron.

Hermione stared at the floor ashamedly. She had nothing. They had no money, no food, and absolutely no idea where the sword could possibly be. All they could do now was run fast because Death Eaters were on their trail.

"So," said Ron jokingly, bringing Hermione out of depressing thoughts. "What's for dessert?"

The nights were always the worst. Hermione could never sleep. Although her wards were very much protective, the witch couldn't help but imagine a Death Eater standing outside of their tent. More than once, she trampled out of bed and walked outside the perimeter of their sanctuary.

She hated this. She hated running, she hated being afraid, she hated the idea of being caught and seeing her friends suffer.

But what could she do? Hermione knew she needed to stay strong for her friends' sake. A lot of good witches and wizards were depending on them, and hell if she would be the one to destroy everyone's hope.

After walking the perimeter of the tent for a third time, the tireless witch lowered herself onto her thin sheets and stared at the pillows.

Despite the comfort of her friends being so nearby, despite the warmth of the tent, and besides all the depressing thoughts of the war, a small thought at the back of her mind kept nagging her. Hermione kept having the feeling that somewhere, deep down, she was lacking something.


	3. Ch3 Bellatrix's Stay

Daylight gently roused Draco. As he blinked and stared up at the bright sky, he found himself slumped against the fountain. The hare—as always—had vanished overnight.

Draco walked back to the tree and climbed up to his window. His room appeared unharmed. Shutting the window behind him, Draco drew the curtains and climbed into his soft, comfortable bed. Secretly, though, Draco preferred the company of the curious hare to the softness of his fine bed.

An hour later, there was knocking at his door.

It was not normal knocking. Draco had expected his mother's soft tapping on the door, but whoever this was rapped viciously on the wood and shook the door handle violently. "Open up!" cried a deep voice from the hall.

"Who is it?" demanded Draco, sitting up in bed.

"I come in the name of the Dark Lord, boy! What, are you disrespecting his name?"

"No—no—wait a second," The boy stumbled from his bed and hastily opened the door. Behind his back he held his wand, grasped firmly in his sweaty fist. "What do you want, _Fenrir?_"

Fenrir Greyback glared viciously into the room. His eyes seemed a little blacker than usual and, Draco noticed with disgust, there was a hint of red smeared across with mouth and nose. Fenrir noticed the young wizard's staring and let out a nasty laugh. "That's right, boy," said the werewolf. "I went hunting last night."

"Bite a good lot of children?" snarled Draco.

"Oh yes, oh yes. In fact, there was one little boy—"

"Fenrir, leave my son alone." Narcissa appeared in the doorway, her arms crossed but her eyes worried. "What do you need with him?" Always like his mother to try and appear strong.

Fenrir turned to tower over Narcissa, and although she wavered slightly, her glare remained. "The Dark Lord requests him," said Fenrir in a husky voice. "Unless you'd rather disobey the Dark Lord…"

"No, no," Lucius appeared, leaning heavily on his cane. "Let the boy go, Narcissa, if he's needed." The blonde wizard clasped Draco's shoulder and stared into his son's eyes. "Son, you'll be fine. Do as the Dark Lord says and don't offend him. You understand?"

As if in a dream, Draco nodded.

They Apparated and soon Draco found himself in a small, windowless room. A roaring fire provided the only light. Before the fire was one grand armchair and a few measly wooden chairs. From the large chair floated a voice. "Fenrir, I trust you have our guest—"

"Oh yes, sir."

There was a silence. "I don't like being interrupted." The voice hissed.

Fenrir's grip on Draco's wrist tightened. "My deepest apologies, my lord."

"Good. Now be gone, I have no further use for you."

Fenrir left.

Draco felt rather vulnerable, as if his wand wasn't at all in his grasp. He tried to look anywhere rather than the chair, but there was nothing else to look at. The silence was nearly unbearable, so Draco tried to focus on the soothing crackle of the fire.

"Draco, my dear boy, how have your days been?"

The wizard remained silent. He twisted his wand in his hand. "Good, I suppose."

"Ah, good, good. Have you heard from Potter?"

Draco wondered why in the bloody hell would he have heard from Potter, but of course he remained polite. "No sir, I've not heard from Potter."

"What a shame, and I heard you two were such friends back at Hogwarts."

Draco winced.

"Draco, your Aunt Bellatrix has recently come into the possession of something very, _very_ important to me. I will not tell you where it is, or what it is, but I will tell you that the item in question is worth more than any of your lives. Do you understand?"

Feebly, Draco murmured, "Yes, my lord."

"Yet I don't trust her. Your aunt, she is loyal, but not dependable. That is why I am placing her in your care. Draco, I trust you are responsible enough to watch over your aunt. She is not to leave the manor. She is to stay under your supervision. If anything happens at all, and this possession is…_misplaced_…it will not only be both of your heads, but your parents, too. Do you understand?"

"Of course, my lord."

"Off then, and don't fail me."

It was then Draco noticed his aunt sitting in one of the lesser quality wooden chairs. She bowed her head graciously to the Dark Lord and scampered towards her nephew. "Well, what are you waiting for then? Come on now, Apparate us!"

Draco grabbed his aunt's wrist. He couldn't believe how unlucky he was! Now the dark days of this war wouldn't be his only problem. Surely if Bellatrix discovered the visits from the mysterious hare patronus, she'd report it to the Dark Lord like the desperate little leech she was.

No visit to the courtyard tonight. No comfort from the strange, beautiful animal to soothe him to sleep.

Draco groaned as they arrived at the manor.


	4. Ch4 Out of Food

"What do you mean we're out of food?"

The three were huddled around a fire just outside the tent; they had Apparated and were now staying somewhere in the mountains. A light frost clung to the trees and the dirt, and the air was heavy with the feeling of ice.

Hermione didn't meet Ron's frantic eyes. She merely poked at the fire and said, "I told you all a week ago that we had little food."

"Well, what ought we to do?" demanded Ron, who had been complaining about his hunger all day now.

"I don't know!" flared Hermione, glaring at Ron. "Why is it me who always has to come up with ideas? What have you contributed, Ronald?"

Ron hung back, shot a biting glare at Hermione, and stormed off into the tent.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a moment before returning their attention to the fire. "Don't worry about him, 'Mione," offered Harry. "He's probably distressed because he's been so far from his parents for so long."

Hermione wanted to say that she had been far from her parents too, but thought better of it. She suddenly remembered that Harry's parents were dead; she had no right to complain. "If we could only just have some food…" murmured Hermione, the cogs in her brain turning furiously.

Harry took out his wand. "All that matters if that we have fresh water, and that's all we really need." He murmured, "_Aguamenti_," and a crisp supply of water burst from his wand. "Honestly, we're wizards, we have magic…and there's not a decent spell for food?"

"Not that I know of," said Hermione, taking out her own wand. Jokingly, she murmured, "Accio doughnut!" When nothing happened, both friends chuckled a bit, but neither thought it was really funny. They both had secretly wished a doughnut really would appear.

Night fell over them once more. Ron had fallen asleep in his anger, and now his loud, grumbling snores filled the tent. Harry had drifted to sleep slowly, murmuring to himself. Hermione, however, remained awake, staring at her pillows.

She stayed awake until she heard the crackle of the fire die away and then waited for the sounds of night that always brought her out of her bed. Yes, just as expected, her imagination made her hear shuffling just outside the tent. Dreamily, Hermione stood and drifted to the entrance to confirm that there was no one there.

Hermione walked the perimeter of the tentonce, twice…and then began on her third and last walk. Insomnia was a daily thing now, and for some reason she preferred to be outside watching for invaders rather than inside the warmth of the tent.

She saw something blue.

No, no—every night she walked, and every night there was nothing to be afraid of. Could this blue light be a figment of her imagination, just as the sounds had been? Hermione was sure she could see the glow and twinkle of the blue thing. But what was it?

The blue thing was hopping about playfully, and Hermione was reminded sadly of Crookshanks, who remained at the Burrow. Then, without warning, it bounded towards her. Hermione stumbled back hastily, tripping over a tree root. The shock of the icy ground and the whoosh of the cold air made her gasp. The blue thing leapt up, about to jump on her—

And it floated.

Now Hermione knew the thing was a Patronus. A rabbit Patronus. It's giddy, gay behavior reminded her of someone; its innocence was deafeningly familiar…

"Luna?" whispered Hermione to the hare.

The glowing rabbit vibrated as a voice wafted up from it. "Hello there, Hermione Granger," said the familiar, airy voice.

"_Luna_?" asked Hermione in disbelief. She scampered to her feet in surprise. "How on earth did you find us? Why—why is your Patronus—"

The hare stared at her as the voice spoke again. "Listen, I can't take long, for my father will be back in a short while. I hear you're lacking in food."

"Surely you don't expect me to believe this…Patronus has brought us food?"

"No, no, of course not, will you listen?" Luna sounded impatient. "I know where you can get some food without getting caught, but it will be tricky."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh—good gravy, my father's home. I'll speak to you tomorrow night. Goodbye now."

"Wait, wait, Luna!"

But it was too late. The hare ceased speaking and, as quickly as it had appeared, faded into the night.

Hermione's stomach rumbled louder.

"Bella?"

"Hello, Cissy…_Lucius_…" Bellatrix gave Lucius a short, curt look before facing her sister once more. "The Dark Lord has graciously put me in charge of guarding the—"

"Shh!" hissed Draco angrily, already fed up of watching his aunt.

"Oh—right." Bellatrix turned to tower over Draco. "And you, don't you shush a lady. Now, I'm sure the accommodations are met?"

Narcissa stepped closer. "Bella, the Dark Lord hasn't informed us that you were staying."

"Well, of course not. I'm aware he doesn't enjoy conversing with _him_ anymore," Bellatrix tilted her head toward Lucius and tossed him a disdainful look. "Shame."

"Bella, don't go insulting my husband…"

"He who lets down the Dark Lord doesn't deserve an insult anyway," replied Bellatrix haughtily, and she whirled around to climb the great stairs of the manor.

Narcissa watched Bellatrix disappear from sight before turning to Draco. "Draco dear, what did the Dark Lord say? Why is your aunt here?"

"He's put her in charge of taking care of some sort of secret item," said Draco blandly. "He wants me to make sure she doesn't screw up."

"What item is it?" Lucius asked. His eyes sparkled.

"I don't know…won't tell me."

Bellatrix chose one of the many guest bedrooms and Draco was delighted that it was far from his own room. He would be able to sneak out again tonight and visit his little blue friend.

"Fuck," murmured Draco as he climbed out of the window later that night. "I'm sodding mental, sneaking out for a rabbit." Yet his own biting words didn't stop him, and he soon found himself leaning on the familiar fountain, waiting eagerly for the arrival of the Patronus.

It came, bringing along with it the gentle innocence and happiness that Draco admired. He drank in the hare's presence like a drug, and fell asleep, alleviated, on the fountain's edge.

But he could swear, just before nodding off, he heard the hare say something…a soft blur of a whisper.

"They need your help."


End file.
